


In Verona

by Little_Plebe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, POV Darcy Lewis, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 09:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/pseuds/Little_Plebe
Summary: Engaging, enriching, and empowering. The three ‘E’s of the Times Passion Retreat where artists from all over the world converged in beautiful Verona to study and create meaningful art. Darcy Lewis decided to sign up on a whim, utterly unaware that she'd meet her soul mate on the trip.





	In Verona

**Author's Note:**

> Three Things Prompt: Sightseeing-sunglasses-smile
> 
> Shout out to [loonyladymn](https://loonyladymn.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for beta reading this fic. Thank you for all your suggestions, my friend.

The retreat was supposed to be fun. That’s what the website had said. Engaging, enriching, and empowering. The three ‘E’s of the Times Passion Retreat where artists from all over the world converged in beautiful Verona to study and create meaningful art. Darcy had decided to sign up on a whim, thinking it’d be a nice break from all the star gazing and tornado chasing. Not to mention all the cool people she’d get to meet and all the exciting sights she’d get to see.

 _All the wine and cheese I’d get to taste_ , she added miserably to her mental list of reasons why she had decided to pay a small fortune to attend this retreat. She’d admit she had met a lot of cool people—this place was full of creative sorts after all—but most of them were too enlightened for her taste, too “woke” as they said, or too over-analyzing about everything to be deemed remotely entertaining. It was a major turn off to be surrounded by assholes who scrutinized everything and everyone with a critical eye. It made her feel small and stupid.

So, she decided to fuck it and turn this into her own personal retreat. While Armand Giordano droned on about the symbolism behind his famous painting _Treasure Chest_ , Darcy designed a quick itinerary in her head. Two days of this trip were left and she wanted to make the most of them. Letters to Juliet was an amazing movie and the locations featured in it were on the top of her itinerary. The moment this seminar, class, whatever it was ended, she would ditch the rest of the retreat and go rogue.

She liked that term. Going rogue sounded like something a badass would do. Darcy had always wanted to be a badass.

With her mind made up, she left the room the moment Giordano stopped speaking, and instead of heading to the rooftop café for lunch like everyone else, she made for the exit. On the way, she saw the handsome dude from the canvas art group standing at the front desk. Tall, blonde, and dressed in a white button-up shirt and khaki pants, he was busy poring over some brochures, completely oblivious to the flustered receptionist who looked like she’d swoon if he so much as blinked at her. Given that he seemed entirely engrossed in whatever he was reading, Darcy’s heart literally stopped when he looked up the exact moment she was passing by and met her eyes.

She had a single moment of hesitation where he waved and she didn’t, thinking it was for someone else, but the very next moment, he was striding toward her and falling into step beside her, leaving a stunned and rather disappointed receptionist in his wake.

“Hey,” he greeted Darcy with a tentative smile.

It wasn’t the first time they had exchanged pleasantries, having seen each other around since landing in Verona that first day, but a few heys and what’s ups was all they had ever said to each other in the last four days. Polite greetings that amounted to nothing.

Darcy had hoped to muster enough courage to initiate a proper conversation with him before the retreat ended, even going so far as to try and sneak his room number from the artists register (she had failed), but no matter how much she talked herself up, her confidence always fell short in the end. Largely because it hadn’t escaped her notice that Blonde Sensation (that was what she had taken to calling him) was a loner. He mostly kept to himself and rejected the advances of anyone who approached him, which was weird because what else are you supposed to do on a retreat if not connect and collaborate with people?

“Hey,” Darcy echoed his greeting, not bothering to veil the confusion in her voice. “What’s up?”

“It’s Darcy, isn’t it?” He didn’t seem to want to stop walking even though Darcy’s steps had faltered at his approach. His smile seemed strained and his gait was a little too springy, but she was too mystified by this strange turn of events to dwell long on what such details might mean.

“Yeah. Darcy Lewis.” She let him open the hotel door for her as they stepped out together into the warm Verona air.

“I’m Steve,” he informed her, still smiling in that unusually tense way that only fueled her confusion.

As fulfilling as it would be to stand there and stare at his gorgeous face all day, it was time to find out what he wanted with her. She really wanted to get on with her tour and time was of the essence. So, she carefully planned how to cut to the chase and took a deep breath.

What came out was, “Um… what?”

_Damn._

Her skin immediately flushed with embarrassment. Steve had stopped too and was now looking utterly bewildered at her choice of words. Darcy cleared her throat, quickly recited basic vocabulary in her head, and tried again. “Sorry. I meant to ask, what can I do for you?”

“Oh.” For a moment, he looked as lost as she felt. The blue of his eyes shone in the light of the sun and Darcy found herself enthralled by the sight. His irises were so bright and clear, she could see her own reflection in them. They were hands down the most beautiful set of eyes she had ever seen.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds, he ducked his head rather sheepishly and mumbled, “I was wondering if… if you wanted to hang out.”

Darcy didn’t think she heard him right the first time. It was crazy that he was seeking her company when he was frequently dodging everyone else’s. But then her brain registered his words and a bubble of hope welled up inside her, a bubble so big it made her feel like she was floating on air. Details she had dismissed earlier suddenly made sense to her. His smile, his walk, the awkwardness… he was _nervous_. Because of _her_.

She was pretty sure the smile she was giving him bordered on dopey, but she didn’t care. Her confidence might have failed her but his hadn’t. Considering how he always appeared so polite and self-assured, it meant something to her that in that moment he looked as anxious as a student waiting for his exam results.

“I’d love to hang out with you,” Darcy declared, and wondered at the way his eyes lit up.

The smile he gave her was genuine this time, nearly all hints of doubt gone from his person. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still endearingly awkward though. “Good. I mean, yes, we’re hanging out… now?”

Darcy laughed at his uncertainty. “Yes, _now_. I’m on my way to see the House of Juliet. You wanna come?”

“Absolutely.”

Google Maps told her their destination was a ten-minute walk from the hotel, so they set off on foot. The sky was clear blue with hints of pink, a good day to be out sightseeing. The cobbled stone street outside their hotel was teeming with a mix of tourists and locals, and the smell of wine and cheese wafted from a nearby café. The area was so vibrant and cozy that Darcy couldn’t help but fall in love with the place. It was the perfect spot for artists to find their inspiration.

A few souvenir stands lined one side of the narrow street and Darcy itched to buy something for Jane and Erik. Beside her, Blonde Sensation—she needed to stop thinking of him as that—walked in relative silence, hands stuffed in his pant pockets and curious gaze darting from one thing to another.

It was awkward at first, as Darcy didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation with him. He was the one who had approached her, yet he seemed perfectly content strolling along in silence, watching the wonderful chaos surrounding them. With his shirt untucked and sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows, he looked impeccable next to her mismatched ensemble of yellow tee and pink shorts. It was extremely difficult not to stare at him, and Darcy cursed her speechlessness in the face of his attractiveness.

Truth be told, it wasn’t just that he was extremely good-looking. There was something about Steve that was heart-stoppingly disarming. Maybe it was the shy smiles that curved his lips whenever he caught her sneaking glances at him, or the way he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her way even though it was _her_ phone that had the GPS navigation switched on. Or perhaps it was just the wild idea that a guy like him was interested in her when he actively chose to avoid most everyone else.

Darcy had never felt this out of her depth before.

But as she watched him stop at a souvenir stand to admire a beautifully painted set of ceramic tiles, Darcy was reminded that they shared a common interest. Art. She peered at the tile that had caught his attention, a fine painting of two young boys hanging from the branches of a tree, done in shades of orange, blue, brown and black. A wonderfully nostalgic piece.

“Remind you of something?” Darcy asked, looking up at Steve. He certainly looked like someone who might have lots of memorable stories from his childhood. Judging by the way he was built, like a massive brick house, he could easily have been one of those roughneck kids who couldn’t back down from a challenge.

“A friend I used to have,” Steve said softly, fingering an _I heart Verona_ backpack button before turning away and gesturing for her to keep walking.

“You guys hung from trees a lot?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Not as much as we wanted to. I was a weak kid. Got easily tired.”

Darcy shot him a skeptical look. “I find that hard to believe.” She deliberately looked him up and down to make her point, to which he chuckled and shook his head. When he didn’t try to refute her, she remarked, “It was a lovely painting. Think I should replicate it for the final challenge?”

The final challenge was the retreat’s way of singling out their most promising attendee. The winner would receive five thousand dollars and a chance to showcase their art in a sponsored exhibition. Everyone else who participated would get a 25% discount on their fee should they want to visit again next year. It wasn’t a bad deal, but there was no way Darcy was coming back to listen to more pompous pricks like Giordano talk about themselves when she could be out doing something worthwhile, like tasering Norse Gods. Looking back, the most fun she’d had on the retreat was during actual creative sessions, where everyone claimed a corner, put their earbuds on, and actively created whatever they wanted.

“I think you can do better,” Steve told her with a confidence that surprised her. While she appreciated his confidence in her, he was sorely mistaken. Darcy was good, but not that good.

“You’ve never seen my work,” she reminded him with an arched brow.

He seemed to heedlessly study a gray fedora at a hat stand while admitting sheepishly, “I have actually. You were sitting right in front of me that first day during orientation.”

Darcy remembered that day. The orientation had gone on for an hour, and after the first twenty minutes once everything important had been said, she had pulled out her laptop and drawing tablet out of boredom and begun sketching a caricature of Jane looking at the stars. It was nothing special but Steve must have liked it because he said, “It was incredible.”

His praise warmed her heart. “You really think so?” she whispered uncertainly. As a political science major, art was simply her hobby. It was something she enjoyed doing but which usually didn’t come easily to her, thus planting seeds of doubt in her mind about everything she created and causing her to be extremely protective of her work for fear of being judged too harshly by others. But Steve, in all his earnestness, sounded so genuine that Darcy couldn’t help stand a little taller.

“I think you’re going to give the other artists here a run for their money.”

A giggle escaped her. “Okay, now you’re going too far.”

“I’m not!” Steve insisted, plopping the gray fedora he had been examining earlier onto her head. “You look good in this.”

Darcy struck a pose. “Take a picture then.”

He did, but on his own phone, and when Darcy protested, he quipped, “Give me your number. I’ll send it to you.”

She was impressed. Five minutes ago, he hadn’t seemed capable of pulling such a move. “Smooth,” she told him. “Very smooth.”

He ducked his head to hide his grin. “I have my moments.”

After she had fed her number into his phone (rather gleefully, might she add) they continued on their way to Casa di Giulietta. Darcy was slightly disappointed at finding it void of crying women pouring their hearts out in letters to Juliet. There were no notes stuck to the wall either. Clearly, the movie had misled her into believing everything they had shown in it was accurate. Instead of a handful of lovelorn women, Juliet’s courtyard was brimming with tourists, all intent on taking as many photographs of themselves as possible.

“This is not how I imagined it would be,” Darcy grumbled to Steve, who was side-eyeing a group of people standing by the statue of Juliet, touching her breasts.

“Uh, why did you want to come to this place again?” he asked, carefully sidestepping a woman taking a picture of her family, and walking into a young man in the process. There were simply too many people there to see anything. 

Darcy pressed herself to Steve’s side to avoid bumping into anyone as they stumbled back out of the courtyard. “I saw it in a movie,” she huffed crossly, glancing back at the horde of selfish tourists ruining her moment. “They showed it differently. It was supposed to be emotional and heart-touching. And I was supposed to find a hidden letter in the brick wall and then go on a romantic journey of a lifetime with an old English woman and her grandson.”

Steve looked adorably thrown. “What?”

“Never mind,” sighed Darcy, tugging on his arm. “Let’s just go.”

“Where?”

The next two places on Darcy’s list were in opposite directions from each other. She debated with Steve about the pros and cons of covering both places, while they took a stroll across Piazza delle Erbe, where they stopped to admire the Statue of Madonna fountain.

“It’s a fifteen-minute walk both ways.”

“That’s not too much. Let’s go to Castelvecchio first.”

“Steve, Castelvecchio is huge. If we spend fifteen minutes exploring the place and then walk another half an hour to get to Ponte Pietra where we’re going to stand around some more, I’m gonna die of exertion.”

Steve looked mildly skeptical, and maybe a tiny bit worried about her physical health. “I hardly think that’s possible.”

“Let’s just rent a carriage or a Vespa or something.”

“I haven’t seen a single carriage in Verona since I arrived.”

“That’s because you haven’t stepped out of the hotel.”

“How about I—”

“Carry me?”

That pulled them both up short. Darcy hadn’t meant to say it, out loud at least, and Steve wasn’t meant to hear it, but she must be getting comfortable with him if her true personality was shining through.

Steve, for his part, didn’t look offended or embarrassed, which counted as a point in his favor. He _had_ gone a bit red around the ears though, which Darcy found cute. “I was going to say do a coin toss,” he clarified with a hint of a smile. “But sure, I’ll carry you to Castelvecchio and you can return the favor on the way to Ponte Pietra.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement at his cheekiness. “How chivalrous of you.”

In the end, they settled for lunch first, sightseeing later, when Steve’s stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm.

The first restaurant they came upon, _La Gustosa_ , was deemed acceptable based solely on its colorful exterior, and the duo made their way inside to a corner table and promptly fell into it. To Darcy’s annoyance, Steve took the seat opposite her and not beside her, effectively destroying her chances of bumping elbows with him and leaning into him while he was busy eating. Both of them ordered the same thing, a recipe they couldn’t pronounce and a bottle of Sangiovese di Romagna. While Darcy pored obsessively over the wine list, debating whether she should buy one for later, Steve disappeared to take a phone call.

“Something wrong?” Darcy enquired when he returned with a frown on his face.

Shaking his head, he slid into his seat and graced her with an easy smile. “Work. You know how it is.”

Darcy thought of Jane’s obsession with the rainbow bridge and getting caught in Erik’s frequent science benders and nodded sympathetically. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

She wanted to ask him what he did for a living, but that would prompt a work question from him as well, and while she could easily say she was a scientist’s assistant and change the subject, she didn’t want to sound brusque and she definitely didn’t want to accidentally say too much in case he was miraculously interested in her field of work. SHIELD would snipe her ass if they discovered she was blabbing her mouth to strangers in Italy.

Maybe she shouldn’t have the wine. Wine tore down the filters in her brain and made her rather loquacious. Then again, Steve looked like someone who could keep a secret. So even if she did let something slip, she’d simply swear him to secrecy. _Or better yet_ , her mind supplied excitedly, she’d convince him to elope with her. They would spend the rest of their lives in the jungles of India where SHIELD would never be able to find them and where they would grow old and help each other attain enlightenment.

Their food arrived, breaking Darcy out of her daydream. Since they’d blindly ordered an item from the menu, she had no idea what it was. But it looked appealing, so she took a confident bite and flashed Steve a surprised grin. “Hey, it’s fish! That’s what Baccalà must mean.” She took another giant bite of Baccalà alla something-something while Steve downed a glass of wine, much to the server’s horror. Darcy nudged his foot with hers. “You’re supposed to taste it.”

“I did. It’s good,” he told the server, who shook her head and left.

Darcy giggled. He was such an amateur. Not that she was a connoisseur herself, but everyone knew the basics. Step one, swirl the wine. Step two, smell the wine. Step three, taste the wine. It was as simple as that.

She did well up until step two, at which point it occurred to her how pretentious she was being and decided to drop the act immediately. Muttering “bottom’s up” under her breath, she downed her glass in one go. Steve poured her another and she downed that as well. Erik would be so proud. “So, what are you making for the final challenge?” she asked Steve.

“I’m not doing the challenge.”

Darcy set her glass down, taken aback. “Why?” _Everyone_ was going to participate. “Five thousand dollars, dude!”

Steve laughed and shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘I can’t help it’. “I know! But I’m leaving tomorrow morning and they said I can’t make an early submission. You have to be present to be eligible.”

“That’s bullshit!” Darcy declared before the real bad news sank in. “But wait, why are you leaving?”

They were just starting to get to know each other, dammit! Darcy had been looking forward to a whirlwind romance where they’d sweep each other off their feet, fall madly in love, and promise to meet again in this same restaurant ten years later, at which point they would get married, start a winery, and adopt Italian babies.

“Wha…?” By the look on Steve’s face, there were high chances she had said that out loud. “Wait, start a winery?”

Shit. Betrayed by alcohol again.

“Neither of us knows anything about wines.”

He sounded more amused than anything. It eased her humiliation to some extent but didn’t stop her face from heating up. The empty wine glass before her received a look of such intense distrust, it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in shame or topple over.

“Right,” Darcy deflected with a cough. “Moving on.” Stuffing a spoonful of fish into her mouth and ignoring the way Steve bit back a smile, she returned to the question at hand. “May I ask why you’re leaving early?”

“Work emergency.”

“Can’t someone else take care of it?”

“Sadly, no,” he replied, sounding genuinely regretful.

“Well, that sucks!” Dismay at the news warred with the pleasant buzz inside her head brought on by consumption of alcohol on an empty stomach.

“Yes,” Steve agreed with a nod, pouring her another glass. “Can’t be helped.”

Darcy took a small sip, then decided she needed all her faculties working to avoid further embarrassment. Accidentally blurting out her romantic fantasies to a guy she had a crush on was not high on her to-do list.

Conversely, Steve, as she noticed over the course of the meal, had absolutely no problem chugging glass after glass of the Sangiovese. It seemed to have little to no effect on him whatsoever, a fact which annoyed Darcy to no end. He looked and behaved perfectly normally, except that his posture was more relaxed than before and his eyes had begun to shine a bit brighter. Darcy wanted to believe those changes were the direct result of her awesome company and dry wit, not just his relentless consumption.

Contrary to what their initial interaction may have led her to believe, conversing with Steve was as easy as breathing. Gone was the awkwardness and hesitation, the nervous glances and restrained smiles. Underneath that unassuming exterior was a delightful mixture of sass and charm that amazed Darcy. Based on her first impression of him, she hadn’t expected him to be so candid and comfortable with her.

“Art school was better than high school,” Steve told her on his fourth large slice of pizza. Clearly, a plate of codfish and an entire bottle of red wine wasn’t enough to satiate him.

“In what way?” Darcy asked, watching him eat in awe. The amount of food he had consumed in the last half hour was remarkable.

“Freedom of expression. Where I was previously scorned and sometimes beaten up for speaking about politics, war or racism, in art school I could simply draw what I wanted to say. It made life easier even if I missed the fight sometimes.”

Darcy sat back in her seat and stared at him. “How can you say stuff like that with a straight face?”

“Stuff like what?”

“Beat up for having opinions?”

“Oh, that. Yeah.”

“Missing the fight? Like… like fighting is a person or hobby!”

“Um.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re pulling my leg with this whole weak kid story,” Darcy inferred, pinning him with a suspicious glare. “Are you?”

She leaned forward and pinched her lips in a stern expression. A thrill shot through her when Steve mirrored her stance, recognizing the underlying humor in her words.

“Am I what?”

“Bullshitting me about being a sickly, bullied, cute kid?”

“I never said cute.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes and Steve held up a hand in oath.

“I promise I’m telling the truth and nothing but the truth.” He drew an invisible X over his chest with his index finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

It wasn’t completely unbelievable, but looking at him now, the idea was definitely trippy. He was such a giant. Almost as big as Thor. “Then how did you become _this_?” Darcy used her hands to make broad shoulders in the air while giving his body a pointed look.

“By drinking lots of milk and eating lots of fiber.” His reply was prompt and the practiced deadpan delivery caused Darcy to burst out laughing.

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You, sir, are a terrible liar.”

Steve nodded in agreement, one corner of his mouth curved in a lopsided smile. “So I’ve been told.”

After lunch there was a coin toss to determine their next destination. Steve was more amenable to carrying her both ways now that he was fed and watered, but Darcy wanted to honor the coin toss, so they set off for Ponte Pietra.

“You know,” Darcy began teasingly, as they continued down the street from their restaurant, following a group of teenagers who stopped at every corner to take pictures of themselves. “You can still carry me if you want. I won’t mind.”

In response, Steve snuck an arm around her waist, causing her to shriek and scamper away.

“I was kidding, Steve!”

“Thank God.” The quip earned him an elbow to the ribs.

Darcy hadn’t counted on making a dozen stops on their way but that’s what happened. Verona, in its quaint beauty and medieval architecture, had so much to offer that it was impossible to simply walk past certain places. Steve, it appeared, was a sucker for monuments that made even him seem small. He stopped to stare at the clock tower on Piazza Erbe, dragged Darcy to explore every corner of the archaic fortress Palazzo di Cansignorio, and even agreed to brave the crowds at Casa di Romeo so Darcy could have her picture taken.

Darcy, on the other hand, was more taken with the general feel of the place. Little love stories flitting around every corner, a guy pedaling a bike with his girlfriend sitting on the handlebars embracing him, the sound of Italian chatter in the background, sweet warm breeze playing through her hair, people dressed in medieval clothing just ambling about as if it was completely normal. Narrow tiled streets that were sparsely lined with souvenir shops, a bookstore, flower stand and bakery among other things; they even passed a man wearing a cloak full of sunglasses and other small accessories tucked inside his folds.

The entire city buzzed with such innate energy that it was impossible not to get high on it.

Somewhere between Romeo’s house and the EF Music Conservatory, Darcy had started asking Steve questions in a bid to get to know him better. At the restaurant, she had opened up to him about growing up in Virginia, coping with parents who were psychologists, sketching her very first caricature (done out of spite for a classmate, believe it or not) and she had even told him about her fear of being left behind while the world raced forward.

While Steve was no less forthcoming when it came to sharing stuff about himself, he mostly only did it when asked. Darcy couldn’t exactly explain it, but she had a feeling he was holding himself back, omitting certain details from her and easily deflecting with a question of his own when he didn’t want to answer at all.

Case in point:

“What does security detailing entail?” So yeah, she hadn’t wanted to talk about work, but she really wanted to know if he was a professional artist because that would be so cool! He had shaken his head and told her he worked in private security.

“Being alert at all times,” came his apt yet vague response. “What does a scientist’s assistant do?”

A bit put out, Darcy had answered in the same vein. “Make sure the test tubes are clean and the brainiacs are fed.”

Darcy didn’t begrudge him his secrets. She was hardly blameless in that area. But she had always treasured being a confidant. Being privy to someone’s deepest, darkest secrets meant she was important to them. Darcy liked feeling important.

“What’s the one thing that someone told you that you’ve always remembered?”

Steve hesitated and for a minute Darcy worried he wouldn’t answer. “I remember more than one,” he uttered, proving her wrong. Lush lips pursed in thought as he tried to decide which unforgettable memory to share with her. She assumed it’d likely be the one that would prove most unhelpful in solving the puzzle that was Steven Grant. “I was told I don’t know how to talk to a woman.”

It sounded like a joke and that was what Darcy thought at first. “Someone told you that?” At his nod, she pointed out, “But you’re talking to me just fine!”

“You’re easy to talk to. The person who told me that,” he paused, brow furrowing, “…wasn’t, I guess.”

They had reached Ponte Pietra, the bridge arching over Verona’s Adige River. The view from there was spectacular and both Steve and Darcy were silent for a long time as they leaned against the parapet of the bridge, utterly mesmerized by the scene before them.

After what felt like an eternity of staring at the horizon, Darcy closed her eyes and took a deep, contented breath, feeling a kind of happiness people only read about in fairytales. She turned her gaze to Steve, who was bent over at the waist, resting his arms on the stone parapet, captivated by the landscape.

Darcy nudged him gently. “Who was she?”

Steve hummed in question, without removing his eyes from the rippling water beneath them.

“I’m assuming it’s a _she_ who told you you were no good with women?”

On the surface, the idea that Steve didn’t know how to talk to women wasn’t difficult to swallow, as evidenced by his initial awkwardness around her. But it was also true that he had gotten over it quickly, and over the course of the afternoon, Darcy had found Steve to be an intelligent conversationalist as well as truly sincere in his respectful treatment of everyone they had interacted with. It wasn’t hard to figure out, even in the little time they had spent together, that Steve seemed to have perfected the polite and distant routine in public, yet was markedly warm and friendly with people whose company he enjoyed.

It was a striking contradiction to what he had been told by this mystery woman of his past and Darcy wondered if he had ever felt insecure because of it or actually been affected by it in a way that would make him think it was true.

Steve didn’t seem bothered about it though, as he chuckled at her question and straightened, towering over her in a way that made her breath hitch. “She was a tough, no-nonsense dame who was alarmingly skilled at her job,” he told Darcy, tone laced with fondness. “She was what I had always aspired to be. Sharp, elegant, attractive. I admired her before I fell for her. And when you try talking to someone you look up to, you’re bound to feel stupid in the beginning.”

Darcy nodded sagely, having had a similar experience at Culver with one Mark Grady. Though in retrospect, Grady had turned out to be a total dick. Made her wonder what she had seen in him in the first place.

“I could never banter with her like I do with you,” Steve continued in an unexpected bout of candor that pleased Darcy. “Could never act like my normal self around her because she was entirely too intimidating and made me feel like I had to impress her in order to be considered eligible for her affections…”

Darcy felt a grin blooming on her face at his words, the unintentional meaning behind them not lost on her. “I get it,” she teased. “She was amazing, but you couldn’t sass at her like you do with me. And that’s why you like me more.”

Butterflies erupted in her stomach when Steve let out a rare bark of laughter, his brilliant blue eyes crinkling at the corners and head tipping down in mirth. It was the kind of open-ended, fond laugh that washes over you and makes you feel like you said something terribly clever. It was also undeniably contagious, and Darcy found herself beaming along with him, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of emotions toward this man who, until a few short hours ago, was a stranger to her.

“Also, did you just say the word dame?” She couldn’t resist poking fun at him, if only to keep him laughing. “Grandpa.”

Steve snorted and reigned in his amusement to shoot her an innocent look. “I did. And did you say you wanted to start a winery and adopt babies with me?”

Darcy groaned, trying and failing to be annoyed at him for bringing up her earlier faux pas. He looked so gleeful at having successfully outplayed her, all she could muster was a halfhearted glare in his direction. Her cheeks tinged pink when she remembered what she had accidentally said out loud at lunch.

_A whirlwind romance where they’d sweep each other off their feet, fall madly in love, and promise to meet again in this same restaurant ten years later, at which point they would get married, start a winery, and adopt Italian babies._

“Ugh.” She dropped her face into her hands so she could avoid looking at him. “I’m sorry I said that. It was the wine, I promise.”

“No, no… I liked it,” Steve confessed. All traces of mischief disappeared from his face, replaced by a soft, sincere smile. “May I suggest one thing though?”

Intrigued, Darcy looked up at him in question.

“Let’s not wait ten years to get together again.”

 _Oh_.

Well… shit.

There was no other way of saying it. The man had just stolen her heart. Pure and simple. He had stolen her heart and left her stumped, and now she didn’t know how to react. Literally no one, aside from Jane, had ever humored her elaborate romantic fantasies, of which she had many, with anything other than an airy chuckle and polite dismissal. Her own parents believed she was a little too whimsical to be taken seriously, yet here Steve was, defying expectations by doing the exact opposite.

Darcy didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to him any more than she was in that moment.

Acting on impulse, she curled one hand around his bicep and pushed up to brush a fleeting kiss over his cheek. The contact was swift and faint, gone before either of them could comprehend it even happened, but it left her dazed and breathless, hopeful and excited for more. The look on Steve’s face didn’t help, his initial surprise at her forwardness melting into something else. Something that sent her heart racing. Anticipation tickled her insides, fluttering low in her belly like butterflies, rising with each passing second. If the quiet, penetrating edge to Steve’s gaze was any indication, he was experiencing the same sort of thrill she was, and she wasted no time in taking full advantage of it.

Hooking two fingers into his belt loops on either side of his waist, she gave a light tug that had him shuffling closer. “This is the part where you kiss me.”

His eyes dropped to her lips. “That so?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy whispered, blinking heavily when he dipped his head and grazed his mouth against the corner of hers. “You’re leaving in the morning and I plan to make full use of the time we have.”

“With kisses?” His lips closed over hers with a soft sigh, muffling her hum of agreement. “I like that plan.”

He reached behind her to hold her head, sinking his fingers into her hair and angling her face just a little to the right, as he continued his careful exploration of her lips. He was impossibly gentle, so heart wrenchingly slow in his ministrations, that Darcy found herself melting into him, getting lost in the moment like she hadn’t expected she would. They were standing on a bridge after all, surrounded by dozens of people. But that detail was rapidly losing its importance in the wake of Steve’s mouth moving over hers in a series of lingering open-mouthed kisses that burned her up from the inside and turned her to mush.

It was the hottest kiss she had ever received to date.

Steve flicked his tongue against hers, tasting her one final time before pulling away. Darcy whimpered at the loss of contact and tightened her hold on his waist, reluctantly opening her eyes to peer at him through the pleasant haze surrounding her vision.

“That was,” she began breathlessly, voice hitching, “over too soon.” She wondered if he knew this was no standard first kiss. It was too intense, too heated to be anything but a prelude to sex, and if that was how he always kissed, well then they were going to be having a lot of sex in the future. Because it was almost insane how turned on Darcy was by a simple kiss. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and she felt like she would explode if he stopped touching her.

Steve bent to run his mouth over her jaw. “Let’s go back to the hotel,” he murmured against her skin, indulging in a tiny nip when she tipped her head to give him more access.

“Okay but I’m not attending any more seminars,” Darcy sighed, wanting nothing more than to cozy up with him in his room; make each moment count till he had to leave. He lived in D.C. and she lived in London, and there was an ocean between them that she feared they might not be able to cross despite their best efforts. It was upsetting that she had met the perfect guy only to lose him the very next day, but Darcy was trying not to dwell on it.

“Good. Neither am I.” Steve laced his fingers with hers and stepped back, not bothering to hide to his pleased smirk when she shivered and made a face at the loss of warmth. “I was actually going to suggest ordering in room service and persuading you to show me your art.”

Darcy nodded, thinking she might even draw him if he allowed. She wasn’t afraid to show him her work anymore because she knew now that he would never judge her. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

“My art is a secret,” she told him with an impish smile. “You can only access it with a secret of your own.”

“Hmm.” Steve pretended to consider it, tickling his fingers along her side and making her squeal. “How about I take a raincheck on my secret? I have to tell you something anyway… but not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes, immediately interested. “Is it about your job? Do you work for the President?” She gasped dramatically. “Are you a double agent?”

Steve tapped his nose. “I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you.”

“Funny.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but couldn’t resist squeezing his hand and pressing her lips to his one more time before they left the bridge. This had unexpectedly turned out to be one of the most memorable days of her life and Steve was a big part of it. Darcy didn’t know if the magic of the place was related to the Romeo and Juliet hype, but maybe they were right when they called Verona the City of Romance with its history of uniting soul mates with each other. In that moment, with Steve, she felt like she was every bit the princess from her most whimsical romantic fantasies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed the fic, do spare some time to leave a comment. It'd make my day.


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